


another lovesick afternoon

by jupiter_lou



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/F, Fluff, Girl Direction, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-14 01:36:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16483598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jupiter_lou/pseuds/jupiter_lou
Summary: a coffee shop au where harry pines and can't say no to a dare





	another lovesick afternoon

**Author's Note:**

> based on the prompt: “you have the exact haircut I’ve been trying to explain to my mom, so would it be weird if I took a picture of you to show her?”

It looks like rain. Harry watches the trees dance in the crisp autumn air, leaves pirouetting drunkenly across the pavement. The sky is overcast with thick, brooding clouds that move across the horizon quickly, as if running late. It’s only early afternoon, just past half one, but the creeping shadow of dusk seems to loom outside. Harry huffs a soft breath and shakes her hair out of her eyes, refocusing on her laptop perched on the arm of her wingback chair. Well, not _her_ chair. But for the amount of time she spends tucked into it, it may as well be hers. 

She’d loved the vibe of Moon Brew Cafe before she’d ever stepped foot inside. Each time she had passed it by, she was drawn in by the warmth that seemed to emanate from the storefront. It wasn’t sleek and modern like the rest of the coffee places in the city. It was unique and homey, the wooden tables mismatched and the chairs worn and comfortable. And when she’d finally stopped by after months of rushing past to get to class, Harry had been even more enamored.

The hum of bustling commuters desperate for caffeination serves as the perfect white noise for when she needs to buckle down and focus on her coursework. Studying in her flat has always been next to impossible; there are simply too many distractions, too many _other_ things to do. At home, Harry always finds herself watching telly, painting her nails, taking a nap, even cleaning the house to avoid her coursework. But Moon Brew is her haven. There’s something magic about the place--it’s cozy enough to be comfortable but not enough to make her lazy. That’s not to say it’s without its distractions. 

“Want a top off, love?” 

Harry glances up at the question, eyebrows rising and teeth sinking into her bottom lip. She’s greeted by the sight of the biggest distraction of all. _Louis._

Louis had been working at the till the first time Harry had stopped at the cafe. Despite the ridiculously early hour, the warmth of her smile had been bright and earnest. Harry ordered the mocha she’d been eyeing on the menu, but she found she no longer needed the caffeine. That smile had been energizing enough to get her through the day.

“You’re such a lesbian,” Nick had teased her when she’d gushed to him about their meeting. “A pretty girl smiles at you, and suddenly you’re in love.”

And Nick really has no place to argue, right? Because Harry vividly remembers him waxing poetic about the boy who’d lent him a pencil in his Intro to Statistics class for an _entire_ semester. 

So what if Harry’s thought about which flowers they’d have for their wedding ( _white hydrangeas and silver dollar eucalyptus_ )? And so maybe the amount of time she imagines touching Louis, _tasting_ her, only plays into the touch-starved lesbian role her friends love to tease her about. There’s no harm in a bit of daydreaming, Harry reckons. She’d spent so many of her teenage years feeling yucky and guilty about the attraction she felt toward girls. She refused to carry that shit around with her anymore. Even if she was still carrying around that pesky inability to have a casual conversation with a pretty girl. 

“Um, yeah, that’d be great,” Harry answers after a beat of staring too long, eyes shifting down to the dregs of coffee left in her cup and then back. 

Louis’s cropped hair falls messily over one eye in a way that makes Harry’s insides quiver. She’s still smiling that same warm, honey smile that makes Harry’s skin tingle. She refills the empty mug and turns to leave with a cheeky wink. 

“Let me know if you need anything else,” she says, her eyes bright, almost twinkling under the glow of the lamps overhead. Harry wants to shy away from that intent gaze almost as desperately as she wants those eyes on her forever. 

“I will,” Harry calls unnecessarily, Louis already too far away to hear her over the early-2000s indie track playing over the speakers. 

She groans out an exhale, rubbing a palm down her face. She shakes out her shoulders and turns again to focus on her laptop. This Art History paper isn’t going to write itself, after all. It’s been hovering at the 400-word count for the last half hour. She straightens out her posture and places her fingers over the keys with all the importance of a pianist performing a concerto. She drums her fingers lightly, as if the action will spark some sort of natural flow. The cursor blinks at her lazily--mockingly--on screen. She slumps back in her chair and reaches for her mobile.

_Louis is so beautiful she’s distracting me from writing my paper sos_ , she texts Nick. 

**What’s new…**

Harry huffs, pulling her foot up on the chair and resting her chin on her knee, all semblance of actually doing coursework abandoned. 

_No I mean she’s particularly beautiful today!! It’s a new level of distraction_

**Let me see**

Harry narrows her eyes and turns to look toward the counter. Louis is restocking the pastries behind the glass display, bopping along to _The Mixed Tape_ by Jack’s Mannequin playing on the speakers. 

_???_

**Send me a sneaky pic, you absolute grandma. I still don’t know what she looks like, even with your constant pining**

_Rude_ , Harry sends with shaky fingers, already anxious at the prospect of sneaking a pic. She glances up at Louis again, whose attention is on a customer at the till. Harry triple checks that her phone is on silent and her flash is off before she snaps a photo. It’s blurry and a side profile of Louis’s face, but she doesn’t want to risk trying for a better shot. She sends it off to Nick quickly, locking her phone and stashing it in her lap as if she’s done something absolutely horrid. 

She forces herself to ignore her phone, feeling icky and cringey with embarrassment at sneaking a photo. It turns out to be helpful, as she fleshes out two more body paragraphs of her Art History paper and edits the grammar in the first three. Eventually, her fingers itch to check her phone. She glances back at her laptop, considering. All that’s left is the closing paragraph, and she can bullshit her way through it at a less pressing time. 

**Too far away, can’t see anything.**

**Dare you to go ask her for a better pic ;)**

Harry lets a sharp breath out from between clenched teeth. She should’ve known. Nick’s been her friend since their very first day of uni two years ago, which is practically equal to a whole decade of friendship in the real world. He knows she’s never turned down a dare. 

_Damn u grimshaw_

She shoves her phone facedown on the table in front of her. Her eyes stare vacantly across the cafe as she gnaws at her bottom lip, trying to figure out a way to ask for a photo without sounding like a complete weirdo. She contemplates bailing on the dare, but she refuses to give Nick the satisfaction. 

With clenched fists, Harry glimpses toward Louis again. She’s already looking in Harry’s direction, and her smile is all crinkled eyes and gleaming teeth when their gazes meet. Harry’s fingers dig into her palms as she forces her lips into a small smile in return. She snatches her phone back off of the table again desperately. 

**I believe in you harriet x**

Harry stands on quivering legs and adjusts the neckline of her aubergine jumper, feeling suddenly smothered by the neckline. Her boots clack against the hardwood floors as she walks over to the counter. Louis watches her approach with an absent smile and a tilted head. 

“Need something, Harry?” 

“Erm,” Harry exhales a shaky breath and gives Louis a watery smile. She don’t know why she’s surprised that Louis knows her name. She’s taken her orders and written it on cups for months now. She blurts the first thing that comes to mind. “You have the exact haircut I’ve been trying to explain to my mom, so would it be weird if I took a picture of you to show her?”

Louis’s hand immediately goes to tug on her fringe, her eyes scrunched in adorable confusion. “My hair? Are you sure?”

Harry nods jerkily, “It’s so...”

“Gay? Disheveled?”

“No!” Harry blurts, eyes wide. “Well--uh, yes, but, um...I was going to say cool?” 

Harry watches her snort an exhale, eyes round with amusement but cheeks pink with something else. She reaches up to tousle her fringe again and huffs when it falls right back over her eye. 

“Thank you,” she acknowledges finally, her voice a calm rasp despite her blush. “But what about your gorgeous curls? You really want to sacrifice them for a mess like this?”

Harry can feel the heat rushing to her cheeks at Louis’s words, and for a second she’s afraid Louis can feel it too, radiating from her skin. _Gorgeous curls_ , her brain chants with something akin to glee. 

“I’m feeling like a change,” Harry lies, and crosses the fingers of her right hand behind her back. She’s been growing her hair out since secondary school, and she’s not planning on letting it go any time soon. It’s just finally reached the dip in her waist. “Plus, it’s just hair. It’ll grow back.”

Louis doesn’t say anything right away, just stares at Harry with the tiniest quirk of a smile. Harry curses Nick in her mind, curses her own stupid stubbornness about dares. She’s just about to make a vow to never go along with a dare again when Louis clears her throat.

“Or you could just ask for my number?” She suggests, eyelashes fluttering. 

“What?” Harry asks, heart stampeding with terror and hope and embarrassment.

“I mean, you don’t really want to cut your hair, do you?” Louis asks, confusion seeping into her tone. She stares at Harry again, eyebrows drawn low over narrowed eyes. “I thought…”

“You thought?”

“I thought,” Louis repeats, shrugging, “you were hitting on me or asking for my number or summat?”

“What,” Harry questions flatly, heartbeat ringing in her ears.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume,” Louis brushes her fingers over her mouth, cringing. “But I’ve been flirting with you for weeks, and I thought maybe you were trying to ask for my number?”

Harry cannot even begin to process what Louis is saying. She hadn’t realized that Louis saw her as anything other than a regular customer, cannot fathom Louis thinking she’s _fit_. She chances a look up at Louis just in time to see her take an aborted step backwards. 

“I am so sorry,” Louis is muttering. “This is so embarrassing. I’m gonna…”

“I told my best friend that you were distracting me from writing my paper, and he dared me to take a picture of you to show him who I was pining over!” Harry blurts, hands outstretched toward Louis, pleading. 

“Pining?” she echoes, mouth dropped open and eyes as wide as Harry’s ever seen them. 

“I’ve fancied you rotten since the first time I saw you.”

Louis remains silent but stalks around the counter and into Harry’s space. Slowly, so slowly, she brings her hand up to Harry’s cheek. “Okay?”

Harry nods jerkily, “Definitely.”

Louis’s other hand falls to Harry’s waist, and her eyes track the movement of Harry’s tongue darting to wet her lips. Harry puts her hand on the back of Louis’s neck, traces the wisps of hair with her fingers. She tugs lightly until they’re standing flush, heart humming in her chest so loudly she wonders if Louis can hear it. If she can _feel_ it. She’s not sure who closes the distance between their mouths, but in the next second they’re pressed together. Harry sighs and drags her other hand up to thread into Louis’s hair. Louis exhales against her lips, caressing her cheek with a smooth palm. 

“Harry,” she whispers, eyes fluttering open. 

“Yeah?” Harry answers, equally quiet.

“Please don’t cut your hair.”

Louis moves to kiss her again.

Harry lets out a giggle, can’t help throwing her head back as relief and disbelief course through her. She can’t believe the last ten minutes have been real.

“Is this real?” She wonders aloud. 

“I fucking hope so.” 

Louis smiles that warm, honey smile at her again, and Harry insides are melting. She’s turned them to honey, too. 

They’re interrupted by the bell on the door as it greets a new customer. Louis continues to hold Harry close to her, but Harry scratches at her nape before pushing her back toward the counter. 

“I’ll just be over there,” Harry promises, pointing to her spot in the corner. “Come see me when you’re done.”

After too many sly glances and what feels like hours but is actually only forty-five minutes, Louis’s shift is finally over. Harry watches her rush into the kitchen and emerge seconds later with a denim jacket thrown over her arm and a backpack on her shoulder. She marches toward Harry with a smirk and settles immediately onto the arm of Harry’s chair.

“Should we send your friend a picture, then?”

“What?” 

“I don’t want you to lose your dare,” Louis explains, eyebrows wiggling. “Let’s send your friend a selfie.”

So Harry grabs her phone, can’t hold back her smile when Louis puts her arm around her shoulders and presses her cheek to Harry’s. They wear matching grins as Harry snaps a few photos, and Harry feels her cheeks threatening to burst as Louis turns to smudge a kiss on her cheek in the last one. 

She sends the pictures to Nick without comment and receives a wordless reply back almost instantly: **???!!!**

“So really, you should take my number,” Louis insists as they walk toward the door. Harry can’t help the belly laugh that escapes her, handing her phone to Louis as they step into the crisp autumn air together.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!


End file.
